


i love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.

by avid_reader1



Series: with my heart on a trigger [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Supernatural
Genre: Finn is Cas, Leia is Bobby, M/M, Poe is Dean, Rey is Sam, Supernatural AU - Freeform, angel!Finn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-14 07:14:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5734372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avid_reader1/pseuds/avid_reader1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Who are you?” Poe Dameron growls, gripping a knife tightly in his hand. </p><p>“My name is FN-2187. I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition.”</p><p>Poe Dameron promptly stabs the knife through his chest. FN-2187 blinks.</p><p>OR</p><p>A Supernatural stormpilot AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	i love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.

**Author's Note:**

> finnpoe trash can. that is my name. 
> 
> (also, BC WHICH OTHER SHIP IS THIS AU NOT PERFECT FOR.)
> 
> Title from Pablo Neruda's Sonnet 69.

_Save him,_ goes their orders. _Save the human Poe Dameron from Hell. He is the Righteous Man. We have great need of him._

So FN-2187 goes.

-

They do things very differently in the First Order garrison. Instead of names, they have numbers, to better implement uniformity, to encourage the angels to act as one unit instead of separate beings. That’s what they say, Phasma and the other higher-ups. Having numbers prevents any thoughts of individuality, of rebellion. It prevents discourse.

Even better, they say, _God commanded it._

And it was so.

-

Their orders come after the human Poe Dameron has been in Hell for forty years. FN-2187 doesn’t understand why they let him stay for ten years longer, why they didn’t rescue him as soon as he spilt blood from the first soul on the rack. But it is not his place to question orders, the motives of the seraphs. It is his place to follow.

They are sent out as a whole garrison to lay siege to the deepest part of Hell and rescue the Righteous Man. Many battles are fought and many of his brothers and sisters fall to hordes of snarling demons. _It is an honour to fall for the First Order_ , they say. So those who stand forge on, fires licking at them and dwindling their grace. 

Hundreds fall and soon there is only a few left, FN-2187 among them. He cannot quite believe it, that he lives on while legions of outlines of scorched wings brand themselves on the barren ground of perdition.

He cannot believe it when he is the only one who remains, the one to close himself around Poe Dameron, to one to lift his soul (it is _brightness_ and apple pie and a woman named Leia and a young girl with brown hair brushing her shoulders and _love_ and sky and wings of an airplane ripping through the lining of clouds and the warm laughter of a silver-haired man) up to the earthly plane.

He cannot believe that there is a feeling of soaring deep within him that lifts his spirit up and encloses him with a light like no other.

(He cannot believe that he doesn’t know that it is _love_.)

-

“Who are you?” Poe Dameron growls, gripping a knife tightly in his hand. 

“My name is FN-2187. I’m the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition." 

Poe Dameron promptly stabs the knife through his chest. FN-2187 blinks.

-

“You are the Righteous Man, Poe Dameron,” he insists. “God has a plan for you. You must obey it."

“Bullshit,” Poe Dameron replies through gritted teeth. “I don’t have to obey anyone other than Leia Organa. God’s got nothing on her.”

-

_Win his trust, FN-2187. Befriend him. Let him know that he can depend on you. That is the only way to make him accept his destiny._

-

FN-2187 follows his orders, spends every moment with the Damerons (Poe and his younger sister Rey, who attacked him with a bō staff upon their first meeting), slays monsters and demons with them, heals their wounds and sits stoically in their motel rooms. He spends enough time in their presence that he begins calling them by Poe and Rey, not their full names. It feels dangerous, like he’s slipping, like he’s on his way to disobeying, but it feels right, too.

(The smile on Poe’s face when FN-2187 calls him by name makes it worth it. But he ignores that, buries the thought.)

"Hey, Finn, pass me that rag,” Poe calls to him from his bed one night, and it takes him a moment to realise he’s talking to him.

“Finn?"

He smiles. “Yeah, Finn. You. Pass me that rag.”

He blinks, baffled, absentmindedly passing the rag to him. “Me? Finn?”

Cheeks suspiciously red, Poe turns his head to the gun in his hands, carefully disassembling it and beginning the cleaning process. Beside him, Rey’s shoulders begin shaking. “Well, I thought it was a bit ridiculous to keep calling you that ridiculous string of numbers, that ain’t a name. So, FN, Finn, see?"

FN-2187 blinks again.

Rey laughs so hard she falls out of her chair.

-

"Okay, dude, I know you're like, a tough-as-shit angel of the Lord, but you gotta keep appearances okay?" Poe is saying this as he rifles quickly through his duffle bag, carefully drawing out a jacket. It's brown, made of good leather. It looks well-loved, well-worn, and how deeply Poe values the jacket is evident in the way he handles it. "You can't just walk around in a t-shirt and jeans in the middle of winter in fucking _Minnesota_."

Finn takes it and shrugs it on carefully.

Poe flushes, bites his lip, looks away. "Huh. Suits you."

("You're so obvious, Poe," he overhears Rey say later, mirth evident in her voice. 

"Shut up.")

-

Phasma is not happy. Phasma is _enraged_ , the edges of her grace trembling.

“Why is it always _you_ , FN-2187? You who defects, you who breaks? Since the beginning of time you have disobeyed your orders, fought against the rules which holds Heaven together. I have been forced to recondition you hundreds, thousands of times. When will it finally sink it?

“You are not their friend, FN-2187,” she hisses, pushing him into the chair and fastening the cuffs around his wrists. “You’re loyalty is to the First Order, not to those two humans. Do you understand?”

His answer is swallowed by his screams.

-

The motel room door slams behind Poe’s trembling figure.

“Finn, what the hell’s wrong with you?” Rey shouts in his face, cheeks red with rage.

“My name is FN-2187, Rey Dameron. I am not your friend. I am your guardian, and you should learn some respect.”

He flies away from the room.

Ignores the way his vessel’s chest seems to be caving in.

-

“We all have a choice, Finn! We always have a choice!” Poe is so close to him that he can feel his rise-fall of his chest against his own.

FN-2187 is so confused, can’t comprehend the way the centre of his being seems to shift, like tectonic plates before the world is shaken apart.

“Choose _me_ , Finn,” Poe pleads, tears pooling in his eyes, a brown so deep and dark it feels like a knife in his chest. 

(He remembers clutching this human’s soul, remembers that feeling of apple pie summers and sapphire skies and the hug of a mother on her dying day, the feel of soaring through ocean horizons and tasting sunsets, the steady hum of a plane engine and the arms of Rey around him, he remembers, he remembers, he _remembers_ -)

Finn cuts his hand open, blood sluicing down his arm, onto his jacket ( _Poe’s_ jacket); moves his hand along the white paint of the wall into the beginnings of an angel sigil. 

He’s always had the power to choose. Finn knows this now. He chooses Poe.

-

Finn can’t fly them away from that cursed room fast enough. He takes them to the safest place he knows: Leia Organa's cabin. 

She jumps at Poe, surveying him for damage, managing to look cool and frantic at the same time. Leia raises her eyes to meet his.

"Thank you," she whispers to Finn. 

He smiles at her, and she doesn't quite smile back, but there's a thaw in the set of her jaw, a loosening in her shoulders. It's trust that shines in her eyes. Finn feels honour like he never has before.

Rey pushes them together and locks her arms around them with a startling force, burying her head into their touching shoulders.

"You're safe now," she murmurs. "Safe."

-

Finn travels with them on the road, learning the joys of peanut butter and rock and roll. Poe and Rey take him flying one day, commandeering the clunky old WWll plane Han had been repairing without his knowledge and showing him that you can touch the skies without wings.

Poe shows him other things, too, where to put his hands on another's body, where to wind his tongue and press his lips. These lessons he gets in a string of a nondescript motel rooms with beds that creak and groan but it's perfect. Perfect in the imperfect way humanity has somehow mastered.

They spend their days on roads that spill over with sunlight and the hum of a car engine, Finn and Poe and Rey, the overwhelming sense of _family_ and _belonging_ that he never found even with his brothers and sisters in Heaven.

He's chosen his home, his home with Rey's sunshine smiles and Poe's elation in the cockpit of a plane and Leia's demeanour of put-togetherness and Han's ever-present frown. And it's his, and his alone.

**Author's Note:**

> leave me some love guys :)
> 
> unbetaed so sorry for the mistakes :/


End file.
